The Year I Stopped Being His novel Chapter 16

The officer swiftly checked the boy's breathing and wrapped him tightly in an emergency thermal blanket.

"He's alive."

"Ma'am, get in the boat. We need to get him to the hospital immediately."

Back on the shore, Garrison and Quinn waited in sheer agony. Neither of them could swim, so the police had forced them to stay back.

Garrison stared grimly at the approaching rescue boat, his breathing jagged and heavy. Quinn gripped his arm, leaning against him. Her voice shook with genuine terror, yet she tried her best to soothe him.

"Garrison, don't worry. I know Archie is going to be alright..."

Finally, Archie's tiny body was lifted off the boat.

"How is he?!"

"Severe hypothermia and slipping in and out of consciousness, but he's breathing."

The relief hit Garrison so hard his knees nearly gave out. He instantly recovered, snatching his son from the medic's arms. Crushing the boy to his chest, he sprinted desperately toward the waiting ambulance.

"Dad's got you, buddy. Dad's here..." His voice trembled violently as he pressed his cheek against Archie's icy chest, grounding himself with that faint, fragile heartbeat.

The paramedics rushed forward, taking the boy to administer immediate care and heat.

Garrison vaulted into the ambulance right behind them, not looking back once. Quinn followed closely, stumbling slightly as she climbed in. The doors slammed shut.

Wee-woo, wee-woo—

The sirens faded into the distance, the flashing red and blue lights rapidly swallowed by the endless night.

*

"Ma'am, are you alright?"

Back on the shore, a kind officer draped a thick blanket over Sloane. He noticed she had been left completely behind. She was soaked to the bone, shivering violently. Her jet-black hair was plastered to her forehead in wet strands, her vacant eyes locked on the spot where the ambulance had vanished.

"Officer, could you give me a ride home?" Sloane asked in flawless English.

"Of course."

Sloane rode in the back of the cruiser all the way to the Fosters' suburban villa.

She let herself in, took a long, boiling hot shower, and changed into warm, comfortable clothes. Then, she pulled some ingredients from the fridge, made herself a comforting bowl of hot soup, sat at the table, and ate it slowly, bite by bite.

For some inexplicable reason, a strange, overwhelming sense of peace settled over her.

It was as if the little boy fighting for his life in the emergency room, and the frantic family pacing the floors, had absolutely nothing to do with her anymore.

For a brief second, she even allowed herself a selfish little fantasy.

How nice it would be if, from the very beginning, it had always been just me.